Spin, Tilt, Slide
by memphisgreen
Summary: He figured that when it happened to him, when he loved someone and they loved him finally then everything would just be so lovely, something would switch and something would change over. It s draining him, waiting for it.


Title : Spin, Tilt, Slide

Author : memphis

Rating : MA (graphic depictions of male/male sex, violence, language)

Pairings : Draco/Harry, OC/Harry

Summary : He figured that when it happened to him, when he loved someone and they loved him finally then everything would just be so lovely, something would switch and something would change over. It s draining him, waiting for it.

* * *

_" it seems to me it would be rather entertaining to have a man, who interests me and loves me, completely in my power; at least I shall not lack pastime._  
_You were imprudent enough to leave the choice to me. Therefore I choose;_  
_I want you to be my slave, I shall make a plaything for myself out of you!"_  
_Venus in Furs (Leopold von Sacher-Masoch)_

He has a boyfriend now, feeling foolish at twenty because this is his first one. Jesse is wholesome, he s nice and handsome and gentle. Harry feels a line of bitterness sometimes but it s intoxicating that someone cares so much for him. Like sliding into hot covers in the middle of the coldest night ever, he lets Jesse s warmth reach him.

He had only known Harry for a month before he asked to move in, and Harry was so shocked he said yes. He thinks Jesse was counting on that, and it delights him to know that his man isn t as nice and handsome and gentle as he seems. Sometimes Jesse holds him down when he fucks him and he never realizes that Harry is boneless with want the whole time. Jesse being rough like that makes him sleep better at night. He can t quite seem to trust all the ambiguity of Jesse s easiness.

In the past it was the nightmares that kept him up, a little tick in the corner of his jaw the morning after every restless night. At this point, it s the lack of them that makes him stay up for days.

It s gotten so bad that he s merely a bundle of nerves now, exposed to any limited transgression. He can t even blink without twitching first. It makes Ron laugh every time, but if he hears one more lighten up, mate he s going to rip Ron s eyes out and cut runes in them so that he can sightlessly see the horrors Harry will place in front of them. He will weep for it to be over.

It surprises him that these thoughts of violence are in a constant rotation. He likes the one with razor twined rope and leaving Snape to the mercy of ravens and he ll just be a carrion when the screaming has long faded. Harry wants to stand there smiling, wants to nail people up on crosses and have righteous certainty that he is good. He writes these things down and then burns the paper on the tiny deck of their apartment, ashes floating toward the sky in the shape of letters, words he won t ever remember again. He s vindicated in his resentment at never being able to hold onto those thoughts.

He smiles at Hermione and Ron and Jesse, strings pulling taunt, and tries to lighten up thinks it s all for the best. He s always hated feeling content in anything, especially matters concerning his fate.

It s after school, after that laughable war, after everything. It s in between the murky days of exploitation and that disorienting sensation like he just left home with the gas on and he doesn t know if it s worth it to go back and check. Let it blow up, he thinks, let it blow up and I ll dance with Jesse in the rubble. He wants to build bridges just to burn them. He wants Jesse to stand with him and never stop smiling. He s almost certain that he loves him. He figured that when that happened to him, when he loved someone and they loved him finally then everything would just be so fucking lovely, something would switch and something would change over. It s draining him, waiting for it.

Today he is sure he s seventy-five and he feels his insomnia acutely. Today he knows that letting Draco Malfoy fuck him won t solve any of his problems. The ring Draco gave him, that Jesse absolutely doesn t ask about because he fears the wrath of Harry s shouting or worse his silence, shocked him impatiently earlier. A meeting, usual place, usual time, and it s going to be fucking shit if he s late. Today, and he can tell already, Draco is having a bad day. He puts his ring finger under cool water to alleviate the savage burn caused by the metal. He fervently wishes that he could take it off in moments like this, when he can still endure the burn, even after it's supposedly gone numb.

In twenty minutes he s out the door and in the muggle taxi Draco will punish him for using if he knew. He looks out the window and wonders if Jesse is aware that he s fucking around on him behind his back, and there s a pang of panic at the thought of being caught. Just a small one though, after all Jesse knows what he signed on for, he doesn t have any delusions about him. Harry s painfully aware of how much Jesse dotes on him, how much Jesse wants to change him. He knows that Jesse thinks that if he s pleasant enough and complacent enough the scale will tilt, and Jesse would hold all the power over Harry and then Harry would be Jesse s pastime. He doesn t like to think about that without making plans for revenge.

The first thing out of Draco s mouth is Are you still fucking that pathetic squib? before he squeezes his wrist so hard he s sure he hears the bones creaking and shifting just to get out the way. Draco guides him to his lap like a lost child, all guileless smiles and sharp eyes. He puts him so his back is against Draco s chest, cold even though it s the middle of summer. Harry shivers and places hands palms down on Draco s thighs, perching between his legs and praying he doesn t fall because he refuses to put his whole weight down on Draco. For some reason he doesn t want Draco to know exactly how much he weighs, like it s vital information. He suspects that Draco has thoughts about throwing him through a window, or at the very least, a wall.

Of course, I live with him. Obviously it s in the arrangement. His hair is pulled for his rudeness; it s getting long and for some reason that makes it so very tender. He knows that Draco knows this. His nails dig into the tailored cloth that covers Draco s thighs, imagines them sinking into flesh, though he can count on his hand the number of times Draco has been bare before him.

Is he any good? It s odd that Draco is talking about Jesse, because after months of these sessions he hasn t ever mentioned him, like it s the only unspoken thing between the two of them. Harry tries to turn around, to see Draco s face, see if he s serious or not. Draco adamantly won t let him, his hands taking Harry by the waist, digging in just this side of painful and pushing him all the way onto his lap.

Fine. Yes. Harry hisses as he aligns himself with Draco s cock, already straining in his trousers. He almost sighs when he feels that immeasurable hardness nestled behind him, so close that heat radiates from the fucking thing, the only thing of Draco s that s always hot and ready for Harry. It s really not the only thing, but Harry doesn t want to be reminded of Draco s temper when he s so light and he can blink without twitching. It s strangely comfortable here, rubbing his arse against Draco s prick, and respite is just around the corner.

A moment later he hears Draco s rich chuckle, reverberating in his chest and Harry s sure his toes are skimming with pleasure from the sound. He hates being gratified through Draco, and he knows Draco knows this. He also knows what Draco thinks about this whole arrangement, and there s that dirty taste in him mouth, that Jesse isn t good enough for him so he has to come prostrating himself to Draco Fucking Malfoy, much to his perverse delight.

It s odd, for both of them are so secretive with everyone else; yet how easily they see through each other s bullshit.

Before he can set up a good rhythm, Draco pushes him to the floor. Harry is accustomed to this kind of punishment, the twists and turns of Draco s explosive personality. He rights himself immediately, kneeling on the floor, his smirk set in scornful obedience. Draco detests disobedience in any form. The back of his hand, expectantly, knocks Harry to the side and he can already taste a tendril of blood from the blow.

I can t believe you ve sunk so low, Potter. To let a piece of filth like that touch you, let alone fuck you. He settles back in the chair, hands steepled, knees spread and Harry wants his cock so bad he s gagging for it. It s so base.

I love him. He states it because it s true, truer than most things in Harry s life. Also, I have a pretty low standard, considering I m fucking you as well. He keeps his eyes on the floor, terribly aware of Draco s eyes on him.

That s so very fucking sweet, what a brilliant couple you two must make. Draco stops for a moment and Harry knows it s just his way of gathering ammunition. Harry slides his shirt off; bare shoulders tanned and freckled because they ve been apparating to a couple of deserted beaches Jesse knows of. Harry skims his hands up Draco s legs, aching for skin hot under his palms. Soon. Does he know how much you love it when I fuck you? He leans in close to Harry s ear, breath skating across in a way that makes Harry s own breath catch. How hungry you are for my cock, my hands, my mouth that for all intents and purposes you ve turned into my whore? Harry flinches away and finds the zip and button of Draco s pants; eyes squeezed shut he relies on his hands to pull Draco out.

Shut up. He whispers, mouth already moving out to seek Draco s cock, drive him to pleasure just to get him to shut the fuck up. Harry can practically taste the hot tears gathered, and he hates himself for letting shame roll through his body, coming in like the tide and it s a lot like he s crashing against rocks. His tongue rolls around the hard flesh in his mouth, his movements practiced and concise. He feels rather than hears Draco short exhalation of breath, the way his body slightly tenses under his hands. Draco s hand pulls through his hair, snagging some strands, not caring at all. He moves Harry s head the way he wants it, and Harry can t get enough of that control, he licks and sucks zealously, like he ll never be able to get enough of Draco in him. His tongue traces the ridge underneath, already memorized, and sometimes Harry fucking dreams about taking this cock into his mouth. His hands stay clenched on the armrests of the chair, his mouth stretching wide to take in as much as he can. He can still feel that smooth velvet ghost over his palate even when his mouth moves lower to pay attention to Draco s balls. Nuzzling at the sparse hair there, teeth taking a dangerous nip at the delicate flesh.

Draco pulls him off abruptly, coming down like the wrath of god for his mouth. His tongue pushes in, taking and claiming and Harry is so lost in it all, so completely isolated by Draco it s dizzying. His hands grip behind him because he s sliding, sliding down to the floor and Draco s body slithers over him. Draco s teeth steadily and ruthlessly bite down on his lower lip, sucking at the wound from before. Harry can t help but groan, blush at the thought of Draco tasting him like this. His teeth finally slide off his lip and Draco s hot breath covers Harry s face. He turns his head to the side, breath coming harshly. Draco s hands are at his pants, popping things open and pushing things down until he s naked below him. A few muttered spells, blissful magic, and Harry s sliding his legs around Draco, ready waiting.

I bet he loves to fuck you so slow. A roll of his hips and Harry chokes back a moan, back arched painfully, and thoroughly aware of Draco s tantalizing silent promise with the gesture. It s tender isn t it, Potter? Is it reverent the way he touches you? Like you were spun out of glass. Harry stops and looks up at Draco, his eyes narrowing trying to read the thoughts flickering in gray eyes. There s something in there that Harry can t bear to look at, and he s lost whatever game they re playing when he turns his head to the side. He does, doesn t he? Triumphant laughter and a ruthless smile and Harry is pushing up against him, legs tightening momentarily before Draco grabs a fistful of hair, pulling his head back painfully to meet his gaze again. I wonder when he makes love to you, he spits it out like cancer, in your modest candle-lit apartment, when he touches you all over with his mouth and his hands, if he s just trying to get rid of traces of me? I wonder can he taste me on you? Smell me? Draco s nose glides over the line of his neck, and Harry can fucking feel the sharp edge of his teeth that follow. The hand holding his head slides over the edge of his body, tracing over the ridges and bones of his ribs and the painful hollow of his hip, ravenous eating for years and he still so disturbingly thin. The hand follows the lift of his leg, and Draco pulls back to look at what he s doing. His hand traces invisible patterns on Harry s skin, and they move lower.

Spread your leg more. Too quiet, after the intense narrative, but the command finally filters in and one leg is bent and splayed to the side while the other only clutches Draco closer to him. Harry s hands are on Draco s wrists beside his head and between his legs. A finger, knowing and sure, slips inside him and he tightens his hold on the wrist moving and Harry begins to writhe. He watches as Draco s eyes darken, his eyes intently on the snake-charm churn of Harry s hips.

Yes, yes, yes Harry chants it over and over, working finger, more fingers inside of him, eyes rolling and neck and back so agonizingly arched off the floor that the ache of a cramp is starting but he doesn t care, he doesn t fucking care as long as those fingers keep filling him and finding that spot inside of him that warms him up completely and teases him so abruptly with satiation. Please. Draco s wrist twists savagely and Harry will live on his knees if he ll just hurry the fuck up, do something against the strain of his impending orgasm.

Beg me, darling, beg me for my cock. Harry winces at the endearment, derision emanating from every syllable. Beg me to fuck you, Draco s mouth brushing over his, chasing each other, and the muscles in his legs so tense they might just snap from the pressure. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you, tell me how you can t live without it, tell me how much you love it. Draco s head was nodding with the words and the hand not stretching him open was gripping his jaw, harsh and captivating and Harry couldn t stop the words, like overripe fruit falling too far.

Please, please, I want you to fuck me, fuck me you He bucks wildly when Draco positions himself at his entrance, but it won t stop his mouth from moving, from the words bubbling up. I want your cock so fucking much I love this so fucking much can t live without it, please, can t you And he s fucking him, so slow at first that it s disorienting, but he picks up speed after a moment or two, so hard it s like he s punishing him for making him extend that much decency. His hips push in firmly and Draco reaches behind himself to push Harry s leg higher on his back, opening him up for more. Completely essential and Harry would sell his soul for this to last forever and a day, and it s the darkest embitterment that it won t. He follows the demanding pace set and lets Draco s gasps and moans and hisses fall on him like rain, so satisfying in a way that he ll never be able to articulate. His back swipes at the carpet and he knows the burns will have to be healed before he even thinks about leaving but for now he takes the dull pain with the pleasure given him. He gasps loudly when Draco reaches that spot, whimpers when Draco takes his dick in his hand, sliding over it agonizingly slow. He can feel the licks of a smile ghost over his face when he plays along with the game, slowing his hips, clenching deep inside himself enough that Draco whimpers and has to slow himself to keep from coming.

It s never this intense, never this visceral, like when they re being denied orgasm. He can feel the decadence of Draco s clothes touching his bare skin, the feel of his cock pulling in and out, filling him up and then leaving him gasping. Harry tilts his hips up, a challenge in his eyes that only Draco can answer and something changes and something switches over. He blinks and his mouth is being assaulted and decimated under the strength and cunning of another. He whimpers and the sound is swallowed with the invasion, fueling the forces. Draco s hips pump madly, showing no mercy and Harry tears up with the tempo, hips snapping to meet another s. Draco s still palming his dick, roughly now, jerking him off with hungry eyes and Harry knows that his orgasm is upon him, about to take control of him. His hips churn on last time, a backbreaking arch, neck bared to teeth merciless in their attack and he s coming, coming, coming.

There s an intense sensation of something searing inside him and Draco s so tense that he s shaking with the force of it. It feels like hours until breath comes to them again.

Afterwards Harry cleans himself up, performs a few discreet healing charms, and dresses. Draco is back in the chair he was in when Harry arrived watching him intently. There s nothing showing on his face except an unclear look of reminiscence, and that s nothing new. Harry crosses over quietly, straddling the strong thighs, leaning over to kiss a slowly relenting mouth. It doesn t seem so much like a duel anymore but a lazy observation, caresses exchanged where hands don t possess such weakness.

Please. Harry doesn t beg to anyone but Draco, and he knows this. Harry knows that Draco shirks away from the knowledge, keeps it locked inside his head and never ventures there. He knows what Harry is begging for and the slam of the door is the answer. He sighs and thinks next time, then shuts that part of himself away till Draco drags it back out of him. He walks out of the room, purposefully keeping his eyes ahead of him.

He will cook for Jesse tonight, he decides on the ride back home. And he smiles to himself a little, maybe every night.


End file.
